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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

36: A Lesson in Forgiveness

The Lord of Mandos stood unseen, watching Lirulin tuck her sleeping daughter in, then sit by the bed, holding her hand. He did not like what he saw and wondered that no one, not even Ingwë, had noticed what was obvious to him — Lirulin was fading.

He knew that she had wanted to fade and join her husband in Mandos as soon as she had learned of Intarion’s death during the War of Wrath, but had forced herself to remain for her daughter’s sake all these decades until Alassiel had reached her majority. Now, she was fading indeed, and if something wasn’t done....

He shook his head. Even if his plan worked, it might already be too late. He sighed and allowed his Presence to be felt but not seen. Lirulin gave a slight shiver and looked about in wonder and not a little fear.

*Peace, child,* he whispered to her fëa. *Do not be afraid.* He was standing directly behind her now and let his hand caress the top of her head. Lirulin visibly relaxed, closing her eyes and leaning back into the chair. In seconds she was fast asleep. Only then did Námo manifest himself completely, coming to the other side of the bed to sit on its edge. He gazed down at Alassiel, still sleeping, and stroked her cheek. The elleth sighed but did not waken. Námo nodded, satisfied.

"Time to continue the lesson, child," he said quietly.

****

Alassiel was somewhere in the mountains, though she did not recognize them and she could not remember how she had gotten there. She was on a path leading towards a pass. Others were there with her but she could not see them clearly, except for one. He was golden-haired. His expression was stern and noble as he led them towards safety and she trusted him immediately, though she could not say why, for she could not remember who he was. It was dark and there was the smoke of ruin behind them... and screams.

She stopped to stare back along their trail. Flames suddenly leaped everywhere about them and then IT was there. She started screaming and could not stop.

"Alassiel!"

She finally stopped screaming, aware that someone had been calling her for some time. She looked about and found herself staring into the dark eyes of Lord Námo and shrank away from him.

"Are you... wh-where am I? Please... don’t hurt me..."

Námo reached for her and took her into his arms though she resisted and whimpered. But when nothing happened except that the Lord of Mandos began stroking her hair and rocking her, she relaxed somewhat into his embrace.

"Hush now, child. It’s not as bad as you think."

"You... you hurt me," she whispered forlornly, sounding lost and confused. "Wh-why did you hurt me?"

"I am sorry, child," Námo said. "You gave me no choice."

"What?" She pulled herself out of his embrace, fury beginning to replace the fear she had felt earlier at seeing the Vala again.

Námo’s expression was impassive but not cold. "You were being obstinate in your disbelief and your disdain for Glorfindel. I decided this was the only way to get through to you. You are becoming more and more like your anamillë, Alassiel, in your bitterness towards the Noldor. Your atar would not approve."

"Leave my atar out of this," she practically screamed. "He’s dead! He’s dead!" She started venting her hurt and fury upon the Vala, who took her back into his embrace and allowed her to pound on him to her heart’s content. Eventually, she calmed down.

"Yes, child, your atar is dead, and for all these decades you have wondered what he felt when he died. No one has ever told you how he died, have they?"

She shook her head, content for the moment to remain in his embrace. Námo began stroking her hair again.

"Nor will I tell you, but I can help you understand."

"How?"

"By letting you experience the death of another you know."

She shivered and gasped at the memory. "It was... it was..." but she had no words to describe the horror she had felt. Then she realized something and pulled back out of Námo’s embrace just enough to be able to look up at him.

"I remember what happened, but I don’t remember the pain."

"Nor will you. Glorfindel took the pain for himself."

"Why?" she asked in surprise. Glorfindel was the last person she would have expected to do that for her.

Námo smiled gently down at her. "It is after all his pain. I imagine he wanted it back."

She shivered again. "He died so horribly and probably for nothing," she said, her tone growing bitter. "My atar... my atar died for nothing."

"No one ever dies for nothing, child," Námo reprimanded her gently. "That is your anamillë speaking, not you... and not your atar."

For a long moment Alassiel did not speak. "Did Atar... was his death as... horrible as Glorfindel’s?"

Námo held her out so she could see him. He smiled at her with compassion. "All deaths are horrible, child, to one degree or another. I promise you, though, that your atar does not regret his death, nor should you."

She thought about it for a moment but shook her head, not willing or ready to acknowledge the Vala’s words. "I’m sorry, my lord, I can’t..."

"That’s all right, Alassiel. I don’t expect you to change the way you feel immediately. I do expect you to think on what I’ve just said. Can you do that, at least?"

She nodded, then another thought came to her. "Are you in trouble...for what you did to me, I mean?"

Námo raised an eyebrow at that and then laughed. "Perhaps. I should have gotten your and Glorfindel’s permission to do what I did first and I apologize for that."

"Why didn’t you?"

"Would you have granted it?"

She shook her head and smiled ruefully, acknowledging the Vala’s words.

"Sometimes, my dear," Námo said softly, "it is easier to ask for forgiveness after the fact than it is to seek permission beforehand."

Then, to Alassiel’s amazement, Námo suddenly went to his knees. "Ávatyara nillo úcarenyan, herinya. Ámet lavë lemya nildor."

For several long seconds the elleth just stared at the Vala kneeling before her and then slowly she held out her hand and he took it, kissing it softly. "Avatyarinyel, herunya," she whispered.

Námo rose to his feet and spoke sincerely. "Thank you, my dear. Your forgiveness means much to me."

Alassiel nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts already elsewhere. "Why me?"

"I think your cousin Ingwion said it best." He gave her a sympathetic smile at her enquiring look. "Others may not have believed Glorfindel but you were the only one stupid enough to say so."

The elleth blushed. "I was rather stupid, wasn’t I?"

"But that is not the only, or even the real, reason."

"Oh?"

Námo nodded. "Glorfindel needs someone with whom he can share his memories, someone who has experienced them to some degree and will understand what he is feeling."

"And I was elected," Alassiel said ruefully.

"More like volunteered," Námo laughed and was rewarded with a small giggle from the elleth. "Turn around, Alassiel. Face the memory."

Alassiel started, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. All the time she and Námo had been speaking the attack on the survivors of Gondolin had continued around them. She realized that Glorfindel had been fighting against the valarauco for some time.

"Glorfindel, come here!" Námo commanded in a loud voice and to Alassiel’s surprise, the golden-haired warrior stopped fighting and walked up the path towards them, the valarauco apparently forgotten.

"My lord?" Glorfindel said with a salute, raising his sword before him then flipping the sword over so that its point was in the ground. He placed both hands on the hilt, his feet somewhat apart. Alassiel knew that in such a stance the warrior would be able to lift his sword in defense against any who might come against him, should the need arise.

"Alassiel has been gracious enough to forgive me for what I did to her," Námo explained. "May I have your forgiveness as well, my son?"

Glorfindel stared at the Vala for a long moment, then glanced at Alassiel. "I never meant for you to suffer on my account, Alassiel." In a single fluid movement he was kneeling before her, his hands still on the hilt of the sword. "M’avatyaruvalyë nillo yando, herinya?"

Alassiel shook her head. "There is nothing to forgive. I have no one to blame but myself. I am sorry too for my rudeness, Glorfindel. May we be friends?" She held out her hand and Glorfindel took it without hesitation and kissed it lightly before rising.

"I would like that very much, Alassiel." He was rewarded with a brilliant smile. Then he turned to the waiting Vala and took a deep breath before going to his knees once again, the hilt of his sword now pointing towards Námo.

"You do not have my forgiveness, lord, for you did nothing to me to warrant my giving it to you. My own arrogance brought me to this place. Please accept my apologies for forcing you to chastise me as you have. I should never have tempted you in that way. I fear I am a trial to you."

"No more than any other, Glorfindel," Námo said quietly. "And less than most." He paused, looking at the sword. "Is that for me, child?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, lord. I would give you my sword as surety for my parole."

"And why do I need your parole?"

Glorfindel grinned slyly. "Is that a trick question, my lord?"

Námo grinned back. "No, child. I am genuinely interested. Why do I need your parole?"

Glorfindel suddenly looked uncertain. "I-I don’t think I can be... trusted anymore...."

"Glorfindel," Námo said, taking him by the arms and raising him. "I trust you more than most. More importantly, Manwë trusts you."

"H-he does?"

Námo nodded. "However, I will take your sword, not as surety for your parole, but in trust. It will be returned to you when you are ready to accept the responsibilities a sword demands of the one who wields it." So saying he took the sword from Glorfindel’s hands and slipped it into a scabbard that suddenly appeared belted around his waist. "Now, let us quit this dreary scene."

They found themselves standing in a lush garden under bright sunlight. Alassiel and Glorfindel looked around in amazement. Námo hid a smile. He held out his hands to them both. "Let us be friends, my children."

Alassiel gave her hand to Námo, as did Glorfindel. Then shyly, Glorfindel held out his other hand to Alassiel who took it, blushing prettily. Námo nodded in approval. "Be kind to one another, my best beloved. And Alassiel," he gave the elleth a piercing look, "take better care of your amillë." He then released their hands and gathered them into his embrace, kissing them on the brow. Both elves suddenly fell asleep and then their fëar melted away from the Path of Dreams, leaving the Lord of Mandos standing in the garden alone.

****

Manwë was waiting for him in one of the smaller antechambers when he returned to Ilmarin. The Elder King’s gold-ringed blue eyes were solemn as he looked upon his younger brother in the Thought of Ilúvatar.

"So you think it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, do you?"

"Did not Aulë learn that lesson?"

Manwë raised an eyebrow. "We are not speaking of Aulë here, my son."

Námo bowed, looking contrite. "Forgive me, my lord. I meant no disrespect."

For a long moment neither spoke, then the Elder King gestured. "Come here, Námo." His tone was grave and there was an echo of Another’s Voice in his.

Námo approached, never flinching from Manwë’s gaze. Manwë took him by the shoulders. "As Alassiel has forgiven you and Glorfindel insists on taking the blame upon himself, I, too, forgive you."

*And I, best beloved,* came the thought from the Timeless Halls and Námo closed his eyes, feeling himself go weak in the knees with relief as a light wave of Love swept through him, banishing all guilt.

Manwë, however, was not through with him. He shook his brother slightly to get his attention. Námo opened his eyes.

"I forgive you," the Elder King reiterated, "but if you ever think of doing anything like that again... Melkor will have company in the Void. Do we understand each other, best beloved?"

"Yes, my liege."

"Good. Then we will speak no more of it. Nai haryuvam imbë met sérë."

Námo allowed Manwë to take him fully into his arms and they embraced, giving each other the kiss of peace. Námo would have stepped out of the embrace then but Manwë held him tightly, unwilling to let him go.

The Lord of Mandos decided he didn’t mind at all.

****

Ávatyara nillo úcarenyan, herinya. Ámet lavë lemya nildor: "Forgive me my trespass, my lady. Let us two remain friends."

Avatyarinyel, herunya: "I forgive thee, my lord."

M’avatyaruvalyë nillo yando, herinya?: "Will you forgive me as well, my lady?" The interrogative particle ma, which is used in yes/no questions, has been elided.

Ilmarin: "Mansion of the High Airs". The dwelling of Manwë and Varda on Oiolossë.

Nai haryuvam imbë met sérë: "May we have peace between us." Literally, "May it be that we will have between us (dual) peace".





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